Читать книгу William Shakespeare as He Lived: An Historical Tale - Henry Curling - Страница 23

"Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch,

Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,

Between two girls, which hath the merrier eye—

I have, perchance, some shallow spirit of judgment;

But in the nice sharp quillets of the law,

Good faith, I am no wiser than a jackdaw."

"Thou canst rhapsodize at a good rate, my son," said the father, "that I well know. But in good truth thou must turn over a new leaf with Lawyer Grasp, or he will turn thee off, William!"

"Nay," urged the youth, "since we have entered upon this matter, I must tell thee, father, that never since the pupil age of Adam was there poor wight more unfitted for a lawyer than myself; my pen runs riot when I put it upon parchment; I cannot indite the undoing of the widow and the orphan, even when the foul copy lies before my nose. I turn a writ into a love-song, and when I should copy out an ejectment, lo! I find I have penned the words of a madrigal."

"The more the pity, William," said the father, "for to speak sooth to thee, I find myself by no means in so thriving a condition as I could wish. There be a many of us now in family, great and small. Business slackens with me, and in good sooth, lad, an I do not better in the next three months than I have done the last, I may e'en close my books, shut the house, and stick up bills to let the premises. Ruin, William, stares me in the face, if matters mend not anon. A bad time such for you to be thinking of changing from the vocation I have placed you in."

"Neither would I think of changing, father," returned the son, "did I think that, by remaining in the law, I could help you or advance myself. But believe me, so opposite is the dull routine of the desk, so abhorrent to my soul is the craft of a lawyer, that rather than follow such a calling I would take the sword my grandsire won at Bosworth, and seek a livelihood in any place where men cut throats in the way of profession. Those were sad times, father, but they were stirring times, those days of York and Lancaster, when—

"Trenching war channell'd our fields,

And bruised our flowrets with the armed hoofs

Of hostile paces."

As the youth uttered this with something of a theatrical air, and giving the words great force by his utterance, his father looked at him with considerable curiosity. "Now, by my halidame," he said, "I cannot half fathom thee, William. Truly thou art a riddle to make out. Seeming fit for nothing, and yet good at all things. I would I knew, in good sooth, what to put thee to."

The lad smiled. "Nay," he said, "I must not be undutiful towards one so good. I will then continue to try and please this godless lawyer till something better turns up. And now I must tell thee I have made a friend of one well known to thee, and who is willing to serve us in requital for some little service he hath received at my hands."

"Of whom dost thou speak, William?" inquired the father.

"Of Sir Hugh Clopton," returned the youth.

"Nay, and thou hast made friends of Sir Hugh and his family," said John Shakespeare, "thou hast done thyself good service, and, mayhap, he may advance thee in life: though what he will find thee fit for, William, I wot not."

"Truly, father," said William, "I confess myself but a tattered prodigal, only fitted to eat draff and husks. Nevertheless, an thou wilt but admit me, I would fain join these hungry varlets at their evening meal, and beg a blessing of my honoured mother, whose sweet face I have scarce looked at these two days past."

"Well, come thy ways in, thou scoffer," said John Shakespeare, good-naturedly. "I defy the evil one to be angry with such a madcap as thou art."

So saying, Master John Shakespeare turned and entered the house, his eldest son following with all his little brothers and sisters clinging to him—one upon his back, another in his arms, and the remainder pulling at the skirts of his coarse gray doublet.

To picture the private hours of the great is a difficult, as well as a thankless, task we opine, since oft-times more is expected than is in reality to be found; and our readers will scarce be contented to find the youthful Shakespeare—in all the freedom, amiability, and kindness of his disposition—the great, the illustrious, the unmatchable—the mere playmate of his little brothers and sisters, and, whilst sitting beneath the huge chimney in that small dark room, as he watches the preparation for the evening meal, engaged in a joyous game of romps.

Yet such is the case. The gentle William, despite the greatness of his spirit and the waywardness of his disposition, which seems inclined to settle to nothing, is the darling of that home circle, the joy of his brothers and sisters, and, when at home, entering into all their little amusements and pastimes with heart and hand—nay, their nurse when sick, and even assisting his mother oft-times in her little attentions towards them—ere he himself, in all "the unyoked humour of his idleness," sallies out to join his youthful associates of the town.

Our readers will, therefore, not be surprised to find that great mind, which in a single line could send a thrill through the soul of his readers, intent upon an infantine game in the "ingle neuk."

The pecuniary difficulties John Shakespeare had hinted at to his son were consequent upon his having maintained a somewhat "more swelling port than his faint means would grant continuance." No man in Stratford was better thought of or more respected than neighbour Shakespeare. There was something about him so well bred and so superior to his station in life, that he bore with him a degree of influence seldom granted except to rank and fortune.

The chief magistrate of the body corporate of Stratford was in the early charters called the high bailiff. This office Master John Shakespeare had filled some few years previous to the date of our story, and the execution of such office had led him into expenses which he had since in vain tried to abridge. "To some men, their virtues stand them but as enemies," and thus the good and companionable qualities of Master Shakespeare, notwithstanding his domestic habits, were so greatly esteemed that his hospitality was taxed accordingly, and his hearth seldom unhonoured by guests after business hours. Nay, at no hour was the little back parlour of his house entirely free from the gossiping neighbour who came down to talk over the politics of the town, or discuss the latest floating rumour of the stirring events of Elizabeth's reign.

Newspaper intelligence, we have said, there was none at this period, and, in the absence of such a vehicle for information, men's mouths were filled with any stirring tidings, and they donned their castors and hurried about in a country town, stuffing each other's ears with false reports, and frightening the place from its propriety when any event of particular import happened.

"From Rumour's tongues

They brought smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs."

"Heard ye the news, neighbour Shakespeare?" said Master Doubletongue the mercer, entering the small parlour we have attempted to describe, and joining the family circle. "Heard ye the news to-night?"

"Good or bad be it?" said John Shakespeare smiling, "it would have been curious news an it had travelled hither before you brought it, neighbour Doubletongue. Come, sit, man, sit, fill your cup and give us your news. What! hath Dame Illwill been brought to bed of twins, or how goes the story?"

"Nay, neighbour," returned Doubletongue, who was one of the veriest scandal-mongers in Stratford, "Dame Illwill hath not produced twins, neither do I think she will produce the half of twins. By the same token, I heard the Leech say, 'twas after all but a dropsy that had caused all this scandal in her disfavour. But body o'me, heard ye not the news just now brought to town?"

"That Dame Illwill's affair is likely to end in a bottle of smoke? why, man, thou hast just told us as much."

"Ah," said Doubletongue, taking off his cap like one who found he had in him wherewithal to interest his auditor, "then I see you have not heard the news. Ergo, the news is mine to give."

"Then I take it, neighbour," said John Shakespeare, "there are but two ways, either to give or to retain it. Come, another cup will perhaps help its deliverance."

"Nay," said Doubletongue, who but half relished the lack of excitement his intended communication seemed to make, "you will scarce keep the native colour in your cheek, neighbour, when I do tell ye what's afloat to-night. The affair, then, gossips, is thus——"

"Whose affair?" interrupted John Shakespeare, "not the one you just now spoke of?"

"Did I hint anything?" inquired Doubletongue.

"About a certain female you did," said John Shakespeare.

"Of illustrious rank?" said Doubletongue. "Why, then you have heard?"

"We have heard what you have just told us," said John Shakespeare.

"The news?"

"The news."

"What! of Queen Elizabeth?"

"Nay, Heaven forbid we should sit to hear such words uttered about our gracious Queen," said John Shakespeare with much solemnity. "'Tis even dangerous to breathe such a scandal in such a quarter."

"Then of whom were we speaking?" said Doubletongue. "I gave no news. I have none to give out concerning our gracious——"

"Of Dame Illwill, I thought you spoke?" said John Shakespeare.

"Dame Illwill," said Doubletongue, contemptuously, "who cares about Dame Illwill? and who, think ye, neighbour, would trouble themselves to stab her?"

"Stab her!" said John Shakespeare, "who talked of stabbing?"

"I do," said Doubletongue; "its my own news, man. It's what I am come to propound, to expound, and to promulgate. Only you will not bear with me. The Queen is stabbed, killed, and murdered; our good and gracious Queen hath been murdered, I say; now, there is my news."

"Heaven forbid!" said John Shakespeare, starting to his feet. "That would bode ill luck to England at this moment. Heard you this report, Master Cramboy?" he continued, addressing another of the townsmen who entered at the moment.

"Which report, and whence derived, neighbour?" said Cramboy (who was master of the free-school at Stratford); "for there be many rumours just now come into town; the difficulty is to get the true one."

"That relating to the death of the Queen by the hand of an assassin," returned John Shakespeare, "and just now given us by neighbour Doubletongue here."

"Where gott'st thou that news, goodman Doubletongue?" said the schoolmaster, with considerable asperity in his manner, "and how came you to take upon yourself to promulgate, disseminate, and divulge such a fable?"

"Nay," said Doubletongue, who stood somewhat in awe of the pedant, "I know no harm in relating what I have just heard from neighbour Suddle of our town."

"Out upon the barbarmonger," said Cramboy, "He is ever inventing one lie or other; I advise thee to shut thy ears against all his monstrous conceptions, and thy door against his visits. Know'st thou not, simple mercer as thou art, that to imagine the Queen's death is treasonable as to attempt her life. Ergo, thou hast committed, or rather aided in spreading the contagion of matter containing treason, and art particeps criminis with that lying knave Suddle, who goeth about seeking whom he may deceive."

"Nay," said Doubletongue, "if such be the case, I will myself go about to retrace my steps, and gainsay all I have said."

"'Twere best you did so," said Cramboy, "with the addition, Master Doubletongue, that for the future the good folks are never to believe any rumours either you or Suddle may bring them. And harkee, neighbour, when you are asked the real state of the case, you can tell your friends that it is not the Queen who has been stabbed, but the Prince of Orange. For that is the actual verity."

"Body o'me, but that is it, then, is it?" said Doubletongue: "well then, there has been a royal personage murdered, after all. Grant that, my veracity; grant that, and God be praised, therefore, I am not then altogether a liar. But stay, an I obey your first injunctions, good Master Cramboy, who will believe this second report at my hands? I shall scarce be credited, methinks."

"So much the better, neighbour," said Cramboy; "the less men credit in these days of trouble, always excepting holy writ, and the more they keep to their own affairs, the better for them. And therefore go not about at all; but sit ye down and fill your tankard, whilst I expound what really hath happened."

"One way or other, we shall at last learn the rights of this matter," said John Shakespeare, laughing; "you said but now, Master Cramboy, that the Prince of Orange hath been murdered?"

"At Delft, by the hands of a misguided fanatic, such is the awful story, John Shakespeare. For what saith the book? 'Villany that is vigilant will be an overmatch for virtue, if she slumbereth.' One Balthazar Gerard, a Burgundian, it seems has long entertained this design against the Prince of Orange, and, in order to destroy that famous restorer of religious liberty, has, at the same time, sacrificed his own life. On my word," continued the pedant, "these Jesuits are fearful fellows, and will murder us all in the end. Nay, it is affirmed the Spanish arms are making rapid progress in the Netherlands, and that Antwerp is ta'en. Truly, the Prince of Parma carries all before him in those parts. Nay, 'tis further said the States are reduced to such extremity, that they have sent an ambassador to London to offer to acknowledge our blessed Queen for their sovereign, providing always she will grant them her protection and assistance."

"And there it is," said Master Doubletongue, "there hath not been so bloody a wild beast seen ravening, burning, and destroying us poor Protestants, as that terrible Spaniard Philip since the world began. Heaven keep us from his hot pincers, his thumb-screws, his iron boots, his hostile intrigues, and cruel enterprises!"

"Amen, neighbour, say I," returned Master Cramboy, "though I marvel much you will allow your tongue so much liberty, neighbour, seeing that, as I firmly believe, Philip of Spain hath a paid spy and intelligencer in every town of the kingdom. Nay, his wicked designs are said to be fully directed against England at this moment."

"I trust no paid spy is to be found within my house, neighbour Cramboy," said John Shakespeare, laughing, "so that my worthy friend Doubletongue is quite at liberty to rail upon the Spaniard to his heart's content here."

"I meant nothing but in the way of caution to our good neighbour," said the pedant, "and whose tongue would be much the better for an occasional bridle, whilst the unrighteous are in sight. By the same token there are at this moment some half-dozen strangers staying at the hostel of the Checquers, whom none of us can fathom. Master Mumble, the headborough, talks of paying them a visit, and putting them to their purgation. Truly, we are in a dangerous condition, neighbour, and it behoves every one to look well to the main chance."

"I think with you," said John Shakespeare, "that our prospects seem not so fair as hitherto they have seemed. There is no question but that Philip of Spain, with all the power of his united empire, will fall upon England anon. His sole aim is the entire subjection of the Protestants. But come, since your news hath driven off my wife and all her children, let us even walk down to the Falcon and discuss these matters further. 'Tis now eight o'clock, and I dare be sworn the Dolphin parlour is well filled with guests. Heaven keep our blessed Queen in its own safety, for an these paid spies and jesuitical villains should hit her life, I fear me we shall be devoured by the wolf of Spain."

So saying, Master Shakespeare rose, and accompanied by his son and two fellow-townsmen, took their hats and sallied forth.

During the foregoing discussion so many bumpers had been tossed off by the two newsmongers, that Master Doubletongue was becoming a trifle double-sighted, whilst the pedant, who was sufficiently domineering over his neighbours on most occasions, was now rendered doubly important and overbearing.

"Methinks, Will," whispered the elder Shakespeare to his son, "you had better give Master Doubletongue the aid of your guidance, lest he measure his length in the gutter. He seems somewhat flustered, and inclined to quarrel with the road for not being of sufficient width."

"Thank ye, good William, thank ye," said the mercer, as he availed himself of the youth's assistance, "the causeway seems progressive to-night, the stones wherewith it is paved, ever and anon, do rise up to salute my nostrils, and there they come again."

"Now that's what I call a circumstance," said Cramboy, "neighbour Doubletongue has been fuddled every night before curfew, for the last twenty years of his life, and has not yet learnt to carry his liquor seemly. An the watch pass us they will be scandalized at his condition, and take us all up for being drunk at unseasonable hours in the streets. I pr'ythee, good William, convey him to his own door, and deposit him in safety there."